


The Echo of Shadows

by ladymelodrama



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ;), Cuddling and Snuggling, F/M, Nightmares, because that's what I do, burning canon, by making it false visions, deleted scene from Sunrise on the Jade Sea, jorleesi fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymelodrama/pseuds/ladymelodrama
Summary: Just a little deleted scene from “Sunrise on the Jade Sea” <3





	The Echo of Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salzrand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salzrand/gifts).

> Just a little deleted scene from “Sunrise on the Jade Sea” (between Chs. 14 & 15) courtesy of some #SympathySadness because of salzrand’s latest rewatch of 8x03 :’( 
> 
> I did something similar in the “La Nuit Venait” universe but no reason not to do it with “Sunrise” too lol 
> 
> Also, I feel like I have to even out the super-sad/fix-it scales for myself since I just posted that really melancholy drabble... #JORRRRAAAAAAAAH
> 
> Anyway, so long, canon #again #seeyanever

“Sleep, _Khaleesi_,” he murmured softly at her ear, urging her to take advantage of the quiet night. They might not have another like it for some time. The army of the dead was nearly upon them. They’d reach the Wall before nightfall of the next day.

The night was black as the bottom of an inkwell in their sparse chambers at Castle Black. The candles had been put out hours ago and the fire was smoldering in the hearth, casting a muted glow that reached the hearth stones and no further. Daenerys couldn’t see Jorah’s face. But she felt his arms slip around her and heard his voice cutting through the darkness with his familiar, husky rasp. 

The moon was a flinty piece of silver in the winter sky, too easily chased away by the promise of stormy weather. A chilling wind blew up against the boarded window across the room, rattling at the frosted glass. So dark. So cold.

And her dreams were unkind. Twice, she’d let herself fall asleep. Twice, she’d found herself waking up in a panic and reaching for Jorah, to make sure he still lay beside her.

_I’m hurt…_

Coming up from the last dream, she nuzzled close against his side, soaking in the warmth of his body, dousing herself in the fiery spark of life that he exuded with every rise and fall of his chest. She buried her head against him, admitting, in a quiet voice, “I’m afraid to fall asleep.”

“I’m right here. There’s nothing to…,” he answered, but then understood. He asked her, “Those same dreams again?”

She nodded, hating herself for giving them any notice at all. Hating the power she granted them by not dismissing them at once, as a queen might dismiss an emissary that has displeased her, threatening him with a hangman’s noose should he ever bring such dire news again.

“They’re just dreams, Daenerys,” Jorah said, with all the confidence she lacked. His hand was moving up her shoulder slowly, his thumb leaving a soothing pattern in its wake. 

She wondered how he could manage that confidence, as he knew firsthand that his words might prove false. Still, he said them, without asking the nature of her dreams. He didn’t need to. Her body language, the way she clung to him tightly, told him all he needed to know. 

_I am no ordinary woman…my dreams come true._ That was an echo from the last dream, as she saw herself on the stone stairs of a foreign palace, beseeching a king who she’d never met before. Claiming titles she’d abandoned a long time ago. 

_I’m not your little princess…_

_I’m no one’s princess._

_You might have been._

_I’m hurt…_the final echo clamored for all her attention and she turned away from it, wishing she could cover her ears to drown it out. But it was rooted deep in her head.

She had dreams like this before. In the East—in the fevered nights after Rhaego died, and when the Spider and Tyrion showed up on their doorstep, not that long ago. And after, when snow fell on the waves of the Jade Sea for the first time in a thousand years. The dreams were like shadows from another life, cast out across space and time, attempting to swallow her up and drag her into their dark, cold embrace. 

And here, in Westeros, they plagued her almost nightly. She couldn’t shake them.

_I’m hurt…_

Most of all, she couldn’t shake those two, awful words. 

There was no mistaking the voice that spoke them in her dreams, nightmares more like, croaked out weakly as he fell back into the snow…with fire and blood all around them. Bloodstains on her white coat, streaked through her hair, slick on her hands. His blood. And his voice. 

In the dream, she dug at the blood on that coat with her fingernails, trying to make the fabric come clean. Softer, she brushed at the blood on his dear face. But tears blurred her vision beyond use and she was brushing blindly, digging blindly. 

Then reaching, just as blindly. In the dark, in the cold. The battlefield had vanished. His body was gone, stolen away from her. And her sobs turned frantic as she stretched out her hands wildly, lost in massive drifts of dirty snow and cold ash. All sounds around her drowning to a muffled hum, the last fires burning out until it was just her, only her, in a dark, cramped place, with a black river of shadows rushing down from the sky.

Her children missing, her husband lost.

_No, no, no! This isn't true. None of this is real._

She’d wake herself up, her mind frenzied and cluttered, her eyes hot and damp from the frustrated tears that had breached the divide between sleep and wakefulness. 

And gathering her strength, she’d hush her thoughts and listen for Jorah's even breathing or reach out, her hand hesitant and fearful, but needing to know he was there. 

And he was. Every time, gods be good, he was there beside her. Always. 

_It’s just a dream, Khaleesi…_his living, breathing presence would insist on it.

His voice too, filled with reassurance should she ask for it, or should he sense her restlessness and wake. As he had tonight, knowing that not all battles are fought with swords and steel, against enemies they could see.

He said it again, “Don’t listen to nightmares. Listen to me.”

“And what would you say?” she mumbled, still effected by the dream, imagining those two, simple words again, escaping his lips. 

_I’m hurt…_but the false echo was already losing its strength. This time it sounded much further away. 

And Jorah, the man lying beside her, not the false voice of a dream, was still speaking.

“I love you,” he answered with three words instead of two, promising, “I’ll hold you until you fall asleep and if you wake up again, I’ll still be here. And if these dreams won’t leave you alone, I’ll have to find the lesser god that’s sending them to you and drown him in the sea with my bare hands.”

She smiled against his broad chest, despite herself, easily able to imagine him doing just that. She knew this was no false promise—Jorah would defy more than the gods for her.

“I love you,” she muttered back, relaxing into his arms, letting go of the last of the dream at last, while musing over a truth that could not be denied…

That those two words that frightened her so much were just words, echoes of shadows, conquered by three other words that were the only ones that mattered.

_I love you._


End file.
